however hard cars pull               the dark tongue

of tar     it's never the ocean i hear              in new york

though if i stop walking or hanging myself            out to dry

i see stars             in yonkers                                    or satellites

something glimmering     something always glimmers

my agnostic     heart still                         agnosticizes regretfully

still remembers the small fluorescent     woodpeckers of hawaii

and when april     cracks down on me                 like an egg

slick and thick                   i remember lilikoi

and kukui          there are only so many     clouds

i think to myself                           somewhere it is glimmering everywhere

somewhere it is april               and that sky is baldblue